Witch Hunters
by Enige-iets
Summary: So far: Rinoa & Quistis are Witch Hunters, but there's a shortage of witches recently so business is poor & odd goings on in the forests have the mountains on edge. Warning: Some chars don't exist.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Think Van Helsing meets Hansel and Gretel meets Vin Diesel's 'The Witch Hunter' and you kinda get the idea.

 **Witch Hunters**.

 _Thunk_! The dripping sack hit the countertop with a decisive sound that attracted the instant attention, and disgust, of the merchant stood behind it. He had been busying himself with a record of business and had seemed disinclined to give the two ladies in his shop the time of day, but their sordid delivery had secured his attention with immediate effect. It stank to high heaven and seeped a runny black liquid over the countertop, little bits of what could be confidently identified as loam and leafage flecked throughout.

He raised his eyes at it over his reading glasses and moved the book out of the reach of the growing puddle. He was an old man, wizen, with grey hair that was pulled back into a thin trailing plait at the back of his head, the shorter threads of which had escaped and now curled around his ears, both of which came with their own supply of wispy grey hairs. He wore glasses, had a flannel hat on and was dressed in a striped shirt and faded waistcoat, all of which had seen better days. He turned his gaze to the two ladies who stood in his shop, gave them a blank (though mildly disapproving) look, and turned to the back of his shop. "Selphie, your customers are here."

"Thank you, Godfred," One of the ladies smiled. She was slim, with very blue eyes and blonde, almost golden hair gathered up on top of her head in a bun. It had once been a neat and tidy bun but wasn't anymore. She was dressed entirely in thick black leather and had a chain whip hung from the belt on her hips. She was currently splattered in a mixture of mud, slime, and the same black liquid that wept from the sack. It was she who had dumped the unhappy sack of indeterminate contents so unceremoniously onto the counter and so she stood wiping her hands on a kerchief that the other lady had handed her. The other lady was slightly shorter, had long dark hair left loose down her back and dark brown eyes. While the blonde looked 'a trifle unkempt', she looked to be in pristine condition in a pearly blue shirt, corset and riding trousers.

Selphie, Godfred's clerk, bounded up to the counter to take stock of her customers and their haul. "What did you get?" She asked needlessly, already opening the sack to find out.

"Trolls." The blonde answered as a troll's head was hefted from the sack and plopped onto the countertop for inspection, its ears flapping with the movement.

"No witches then…" Selphie elaborated, spinning the head around and peering into its face. "That's a shame."

"Hardly," The blonde replied, "I'd rather fight a troll than a witch and at least with this lot cleared out that's the end of it. Witches would be coming back to find out what happened to their friends."

"A sack of trolls heads isn't going to pay for all the stuff we wasted killing them though." The other lady grumbled.

"I guess not," The blonde had to agree, it was a bit of a let down to go out hunting for a witch only to find out their quarry was a group of trolls instead. "But even so, it's hardly a bad thing - we have solved the mystery and freed the town."

A shrug.

"Hey," Selphie started soothingly, moving the heads down behind the countertop and out of the way, "Rin, it's ok. It's not a witch but this is ok, you know. As Godfred always says, 'the best troll is a dead troll!'-" Godfred peered around the corner of the entrance to the back of the shop at the mention of his name and scowled. He never said anything of the sort. "So don't feel too down. I'm sure you'll get a witch soon!"

Rinoa, the dark haired lady, shrugged again and folded her arms. "I'm just getting a bit fed up with all this meagre prey."

The blonde considered her companion, normally Rinoa was the cheerful one of the two and always had enough energy and motivation to keep the both of them going. To see her so… out of sorts… was concerning. "It might just be a quiet time around here." She said, though she didn't really belief it and had never heard of such a thing herself. As a rule, witches were reasonably active all year round, but most especially so around the solstices. Though there weren't any notable wiccer events coming up any time soon, that didn't mean that the witches would all just… go away. But it had been a good long while since they had last caught a witch, a month or so.

"Yeah," Selphie said, leaning on the counter and giving Rinoa a sympathetic look, "Maybe Quistis is right, maybe you've killed all the ones from around here."

Rinoa fixed Selphie with a look and huffed in annoyance, then turned and left the shop with a flip of her hair. Quistis, the blonde, and Selphie, the clerk, exchanged a look of their own at her departure. Quistis sighed and shrugged, "I don't know what's up with her so don't ask. She's been down all week. What can you give me for them?"

"Well there are 4 heads, so I can give you 40gil. Maybe she's 'on'?"

"That's not going to see us through the week… She's not 'on', she drinks that contraceptive tea to make sure she's not. Any chance you could up that to 80gil?"

"I'm afraid not, sorry Quisty, this is a business you know and the old man will skin me alive if I start handing out favours."

Quistis raised an eyebrow. "Godfred!" She called and the old man poked his head around the corner again, "Might we borrow you? I'm afraid I have a slight issue with your payout." Godfred shuffled over grouchily and Quistis smiled at him. "Your shop is offering 10gil per Trolls head, which I would be happy with if I didn't have to charge you for town service."

"How do you mean?" Godfred drawled in a bored voice. He had been a merchant for a very long time and sorely disliked when customers who had come to trade would beat about the bush instead of simply naming their price and their reasoning.

"This is a bounty prize, not a common hunt. I believe I should get the bounty price advertised which was 200gil."

"The bounty was for a witch, not some trolls."

"No, the bounty was for the beast or beasts which were attacking travellers on the road. It didn't state specifically that it was a witch and it didn't specify that any prizes brought forward which were not witches would be subject to a reduced bounty. As these items were not stipulated and as killing these trolls counts as a service towards the town, these heads are still subject to the terms of the initial bounty, so they should come in at the same price, or, failing that, should have a town service charge applied."

"I'm not paying 200gil for some troll heads." He stated bluntly.

"Then what's your best price."

"50gil."

"That doesn't account for the town service."

"Name your price then." He growled.

"20gil per head, 25% for town service, that's 100gil and not a penny less."

"You asked for 80gil earlier!" Selphie cried in dismay.

"I was waiving the service." Quistis replied then turned her attention to Godfred, who was gumming bad-temperedly. "Do we have a deal, or should I turn the heads in to the mayor?"

"Oh, deal!" Godfred eventually snapped, gesturing sharply for Selphie to hand over some coins, "Take your money and get out of my shop!"

Quistis thanked him as Selphie handed over a bag of 100gil. He stomped off to the back of the shop again to be grumpy in private and could just about be heard muttering to himself as he rounded the corner - "Damn brats, if they rob me any more I'll go blind!"

When Quistis got out of the shop Rinoa was waiting, arms folded under her cloak, eyes narrowed in irritation and glowering out into the dark of the night. People with torches wandered past, throwing light over the straw lined streets as they passed, then disappeared around down the road and left the street in darkness again. If it weren't for the candlelight coming from the grubby shop windows the road would be pitch black. In the darkness Quistis and Rinoa's horses whickered to each other softly and Rinoa scowled a little more.

"You alright?" Quistis asked, voice low.

"I just want to find another witch." Rinoa grumbled. "It's been too long."

"I know." Quistis muttered. "They can't have all gone, that would be insane." When her hunting partner said nothing Quistis bit her lip. She was ill-used to an unhappy Rinoa and was never very sure how to comfort anyone. The combination of these two dreaded scenarios was… difficult. She held up the bag of gil and jingled it hopefully. "Managed to get 100gil out of the old goat, so we can find somewhere to sleep and restock for tomorrow if you like?"

Rinoa nodded. Some food and a bed sounded alright. They collected their horses and walked down the dark streets until they found the liveliest, most well lit building in the town, the tavern, and walked around to the stables to put their mounts to bed. Their horses suitably stabled they trundled round to the front door of the establishment, packs over their shoulders, to see what the situation was like inside. The smell of hops and woodsmoke rushed out through the door when it was opened, then fell over them like a cloak as they went inside.

As it happened there were only two beds available and dinner had just been served (rabbit stew) so the pair paid their money and went to sit at a table and wait for food to arrive. All around them the townspeople chatted and laughed, quaffed on ginormous flagons of beer and paid the pair next to no mind. Of course their attire (and smell) earnt some glances, but it wasn't anything unusual. They usually smelt fairly bad after a hunt and Rinoa was pretty enough to capture anyone's imagination, so the odd glance was not unexpected. The tavern keeper brought them their stew and they ate in silence, partly due to tiredness and partly Rinoa's mood, and when they had finished and taken their bowls back to the bar they were show to their room.

Finally away from any prying eyes or ears, Quistis decided that now was the time to corner Rinoa about her recent gloomy behaviour.

"I don't knoooooow!" Rinoa whined, throwing herself back on her bed and her arms out flat either side. "If I knew then maybe I could fix it! I just… I feel like something really bad is coming… but I don't know what!"

On her own bed, sat cross legged and sponging down her leathers, Quistis probed, "Bad as in, bad weather, or as in, end of the world?"

"As in… I have no idea." Rinoa replied. "It's like… Dread. Why aren't we getting reports of any witches anymore? Why aren't people running screaming through the streets looking for our services like they used to?" She propped herself up on her elbows to look at her partner. "What has happened in the last 2 months that means that this place has suddenly turned into some kind of haven or paradise? This is meant to be the Wiccer Valley! There should be witches around every corner! Bearing down from all sides! Popping out of houses, carrying pregnant women on their shoulders kicking and screaming and disappearing into the night!"

Quistis pressed her lips together a shrugged. She had been wondering the same thing, but was trying not to let it bother her. Yes they were witch hunters, but trolls and ogres were a pretty good substitute. At least they weren't particularly intelligent foes even if they were a bit of a handful to kill. They had even taken on a werewolf recently in the absence of a witch and that…. Well… Werewolves were even more dangerous than witches as it turned out and Quistis could only say she was glad she wasn't a werewolf hunter by trade because she planned never to confront another werewolf for as long as she lived. They had teeth… and claws… and they were quick. Very very very quick. So quick that it gave her nightmares for nights afterwards - nightmares about things with long teeth looming at her from the dark.

"The whole thing just fills me with dread." Rinoa continued. "Like… Where have they gone? Because they _have_ gone - they're clearly not here anymore."

"I don't know, Rin," Quistis sighed and looked up from her scrubbing. "I don't know and I don't really want to know. If they _have_ gone somewhere then I don't want to know where that is and I don't really want to know what they're up to either. I think, tomorrow, we should pick up some more supplies and then maybe make tracks, find some better hunting grounds and see what else we can pick up."

Rinoa frowned, still clearly bothered by the absence of witches, but, having no alternatives to offer, silently agreed and pulled her blankets out from underneath herself. She settled in for sleep and Quistis, once she had finished cleaning her leathers, blew out the single candle and did the same.

000

Dawn broke and shone golden tendrils through the misty treetops to warm the cold earth below. The soft glow which normally stretched long over the hillsides, dips and slopes of the Wiccer Valley and relieved the little rivers and highland meadows and farmer's fields of nights frigid grasp and delivered them into crisp, sunny day, also illuminated a rather more sorry sight this particular morning. High on the hillside in a little copse of fruit trees and berry bushes, a mushroom circle lay destroyed. Mushroom heads lay hither and thither, some half eaten, others simply ripped up and discarded. The fairies who would otherwise have called this home lay all around, sound grievously wounded, others already dead. Not far away a wooden spriggan lay dead and the hunter who had killed it stood cleaning his sword.

He sighed in disappointment as he looked back at the mushroom circle and the fairies who were flying around in a panic. He had come to get some fairy dust and had been confronted instead with the sight of a frenzied spriggan eating the mushroom circle, tearing the mushrooms from the ground and stuffing them into its mouth, hardly managing to chew them at all before they fell out and the next mushroom was stuff in its place. The fairies, understandably horrified by this, had been trying their best to stop the spriggan by shooting it with tiny arrows and throwing stone in its eyes. In anger and pain the spriggan had been thrashing its limbs at the fairies who buzzed around its head, catching clouds of them and swatting them from the air. Fairy bodies little the grass around the circle and the wounded cried in pain. Once he had shaken himself from his momentary shock at the sight which had greeted him, the hunter had set about the task of rescuing the fairies. It had soon became clear that whatever had taken a hold of the spriggan was not about to let it go, so he had been left with no choice but to slay it. And now here he stood, sap and ichor coating his sword, the spriggan laying still at his feet, the poor beleaguered fairies crying softly in the remains of their mushroom circle as they gathered up their wounded and dead.

It was a shame that the mushroom circle had been destroyed, and it was very sad indeed for the poor fairies, they would likely leave this copse and not come back now that it had proven itself to be so terribly unsafe. But more than that it was an extremely foreboding thing to have happened. Spriggans were effectively natural guardians and would protect, or at least cast a blind eye to, any of the beings or creatures who also dwelt in their domains. Wood spriggans in particular were rather peaceable creatures and were extremely tolerant of fairies and other small sentient lives. To see one eating a mushroom circle was… Well the creature had clearly gone mad, but even an angry spriggan wouldn't normally take umbrage with a mushroom circle. Something dreadful must have happened to it to make it abandon all reason and destroy the fairies homes. Without fairies to tend to the flowers they wouldn't grow, there would be no berries on the bushes, no food for rodents or birds in the winter, and just like that the woods and forests became a waste where no things could grow or live.

It was foreboding to say the least and a very bad omen to speak truthfully. And there would be no fairy dust here from now on, which meant that the hunter would have to descent the mountain to the valley below if he hoped to find any more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

"What?!" A grin the width of the shop fair broke Selphie's face at the ridiculous request the customer had just made. She'd never heard of anything so… well! "We don't have anything like that here!" She laughed.

The hunter scowled, "You don't need to laugh about it, what was the sign on the door outside - 'Fae Peculiarities'? What kind of a 'peculiarities' merchant doesn't have something so simple as fairy dust?"

"it is not such a simple request in this day, young man." Godfred rumbled as he emerged from the back of the shop. Selphie was a good clerk and her carefree and energetic nature leant itself well to mercantile work, but there were times when she unfortunately had the opposite effect. Laughing at the customer's enquiry had clearly ruffled his feathers, so it was time for the old man to step in. "Such things are harder to come by and business is slow of late."

The hunter huffed in concession, but it didn't solve his problem. "Do you know where I might be able to get some?"

"I'm afraid not," Godfred shook his head. "There aren't very many people interested in things like fairy dust these days. You can find it in the mountains."

"There isn't any, I've looked."

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you and I doubt there's a merchant this side of the Velodyne who would have a stock. You could try bartering with another hunter but I doubt they would part with theirs."

The hunter wiped a hand over his face and scratched at his stubble. He looked to Godfred to be around 24 or 25 years old, was tall and broad shouldered, with short blonde hair and a thin layer of dirt that he wore like a second skin. He had on a trench coat, protective leather chausses and knee high boots. A wide brimmed hat sat atop his head. To say it looked 'battered' would have been a compliment to it, relatively speaking. How the thing was holding itself together Godfred had no idea, there were several slashes across the dome which looked to have been stitched up and patched with resin, and a number of holes dotted across the rim, one particular set of holes nearest the front were similar in shape and pattern to what one might expect of a very big dog bite. That one had obviously been a very close call. A sword hung from the hunter's belt and a satchel hung over one shoulder beneath the trench coat.

"I don't suppose you know where I can find any other hunters, then?" He asked, not sounding particularly hopeful. Godfred didn't blame him, buying from someone who wasn't regulated by any town councils or merchants guilds could be an expensive and unpleasant experience.

"Quistis and Rinoa are in town." Selphie piped up, looking a bit nonplussed at the situation. There wasn't such a thing as 'fairy dust' so this was a pointless conversation, but if the old man was willing to play along in the name of 'customer service' then so be it.

"Women?" The hunter sounded surprised.

"Yeah, women." Selphie replied defensively, "But they're damn good hunters so don't underestimate them!"

Clearly not fond of Selphie, the hunter turned his attention back to Godfred, "Where can I find them?"

"They were probably at the tavern, The Laughing Gnome," Godfred supplied, to which the hunter grumbled that it was a stupid name for a tavern. "Well I didn't name it!" The old man growled, "Anyway they're not there anymore so take the road west and you'll find them eventually…"

With that, and clearly dismissed, the hunter made an expression of disappointment before grumbling a 'thanks' and vacating the shop. Selphie turned to look at the old man, who spared her a glance, before shuffling off to the back of the shop again. Selphie followed him. "Why is it a stupid name for a tavern?" She asked, perplexed by the whole conversation, it was like the two men were speaking a different language back there. "I think it's pretty…"

"Gnomes don't laugh." the old man growled, his usual bad temper having returned full force. "They're mute."

"Mute?" She almost laughed.

"Yes, girl, mute. They don't make any noise at all, why would they laugh?" Godfred snapped. "Naming a tavern after a laughing something that can't make any sound was a fucking stupid idea, but because I'm 'not a tavern keep and don't know what I'm talking about' we have to live with the eternal shame of having to direct travelers to that ridiculous contradiction in terms and what's more-" here Godfred paused and shuddered at the thought, before muttering bitterly, "None of them have any idea what a hideous misnomer it really is…"

Still, the hunter clearly knew, which was a rare thing indeed and made Godfred a little less disinclined towards him than he usually was to a stranger. The world had moved on from the days when Godfred was young and what had once been common knowledge was now considered to be a lot of blather or a nice story to get the kids to go to sleep on a fairy tale. Godfred's involvement in Selphie's sale was only in part due to the customer's evident frustration at her jovial ridicule. On hearing the hunter's request - all the fairy dust they could muster - the old man had found his interest piqued and had struggled up from his chair in the back to go and listen to the conversation going on in the front. It had been _years_ since anyone had asked for fairy dust and coincidentally it had been years since he had any in stock! It got the old man's blood pumping and some nostalgic twangs in his heart for younger days spent scouring the hillsides and forests for the selfsame fae peculiarities after which he had decided to name his shop.

Selphie, still perplexed, was frowning. "But… Gnomes aren't real."

"But witches and trolls and werewolves are." Godfred grumbled, groaning as he lowered his old self down into his armchair. A pot of tea was sat on the table next to him, still steaming from when he had poured the boiling water in earlier, and he poured himself a cup. "If you believe in trolls squatting under bridges, waiting to snatch passers by who can't 'pay the toll', then a gnome shouldn't be so hard to fathom."

Selphie cocked her head to one side, pressing onward, "But no one has ever seen one."

Godfred scoffed, "I've seen one! Lots of people have seen one! I've seen lots of 'em! Used to be a time when this shop was filled with 'em! Had 'em cleaning the rooms, sorting the items, labeling things, all sorts! In fact, they were pretty much doing your job!" He gave Selphie a beady eye that made her squirm, "They were better at it too."

"What happened to them?" She asked, now thoroughly interested in what the old man was saying even if she wasn't convinced about the veracity of it all.

"Evil took 'em." Godfred shrugged. "World got darker, harder. The witches moved in. Became too dangerous for the likes of Gnomes and Fairies."

Selphie nodded, but decided not to say anything. This was the first time the old man had opened up about the past and although he had a generally unhappy air about him, the wistful expression, contemplative look... It made her feel sad inside.

000

The road going East from the town was a pleasant ride on a good sunny day like today. It was early in the summer and at this time of the morning the air was still cool, not yet hot enough to be uncomfortable, and a soft breeze blew. The trees rustled around them as Quistis and Rinoa made steady progress. The road would lead them along the bottom edge of the forest and then up on a winding trail to a pass several hundred meters above. From there they could get into the next valley and would hopefully find some more promising hunting grounds. They had stocked up on non-perishable food in the town (dried fruits and meats, rye and spelt loaves and similar) and had decided to take their chances in another location.

At the promise of new grounds and better hunts (and a few dead witches) Rinoa's disposition had picked up considerably and she was happily humming away to herself at the front, leading the way. She always lead the way. Quistis didn't mind, she took charge of their battles and organizing accommodation, and selling their kills and replenishing their- well Quistis did almost everything else, so she was quite happy to let Rinoa read the map on their treks. It was just as well, Quistis herself had little navigational ability, but Rinoa seemed to be blessed with a homing instinct to rival the best trained carrier dove.

By noon they had popped out of the trees and decided to stop for lunch in a meadow just off the path. It was on a fairly steep incline and once they'd finished hobbling their horses and plopped themselves down in the grass for a snack they found they could see the town from there. The bottom of the valley was a long way down now and the town looked like a small lican on an otherwise deserted rock.

"If this goes well, I don't suppose we'll ever see Timber again." Rinoa mused.

"Depends, " Quistis replied. "It wouldn't hurt to visit from time to time. And if the hunting improves in this part then we could come back."

"I guess... I'll miss Selphie."

"And her inventions"

Rinoa grinned, "Yeah."

Selphie's inventions were fantastic, and sometimes a little dangerous. Godfred owned the shop and sold a variety of odds and ends from health potions and ingredients for the same, to fishing tackle and travelling gear. Quistis' battle attire had come from Godfred's shop and it had done her very very well considering what she had put it through. But it was the little… side business… that Selphie had created which really took the biscuit. If it weren't so lucrative it was doubtful that Godfred would allow her to go through with it all.

Hunters and travellers were welcome to trade their bits and bobs at any merchant's establishment and could get a decent price if they visited the guildhall directly, but if they brought it to Godfred's shop then it was more often than not absorbed into Selphie's inventions, all of which could be bought back by said hunter or traveller at an inflated price. The most popular and useful of Selphie's inventions were her crossbow bolts (in various different types; fire arrows, holy barbs, wolfs-bane 'bonanza', to name but a few), troll soap (a block of congealed troll 'fluids' which, when applied to clothing, effectively masked ones presence in the company of trolls) and Quistis' own personal favourite - Daylight Dust. If one ever asked Selphie how she made her inventions (there were some other less useful ones) she would tap her nose and state that such information would be too great for lesser minds and she was doing the world a favour by keeping them all from it. Well, however they were made, testimony to their success was in the simple fact that Godfred allowed her to continue inventing in his shop. The troll soap smelt so foul that if it was anything less than a 'best seller' Selphie may very well have found herself out on her arse soon as the first block had made its way onto the consumer market!

The two girls laughed about some of Selphie's finer (and rather less fine) moments and 'miracles' before deciding their lunch break was over and they had better get moving again.

"Hey, what's the matter with these two?" Quistis frowned at the horses who were hopping nervously around on their hobbles, turning themselves around in circles to stare in all directions. Quistis' horse, a gelding called Seagil, squealed at her when she touched him and nearly tripped himself up as he jerked away. "Woah!" Quistis said firmly, grabbing the reins which hung from his neck and holding on, "Easy boy, steady, steady."

Protesting, Seagil pulled his head up in the air, but the hobble made it hard to move and his trust for Quistis was nigh absolute. Still this place was unsafe! Quistis tugged on the rein to try and encourage his head down, but he tugged back.

Rinoa had a firm hold on her own flighty mare, Angel, and was petting her neck soothingly. "Something's not right." She said, watching Quistis trying vainly to get a handle on Seagil's bridle. "They were perfectly happy in the valley."

"Yeah I know-" Quistis replied, straining to reach the bridle that was now a good 8 feet above the ground and refusing to get any closer. "But…"

"I know," Rinoa agreed to her friend's unspoken thought and looked around. The tree line around them was clear and there didn't appear to be anything else in the meadow with them so she couldn't see quite what there was to be so concerned about, but if there _was_ anything lurking nearby then they couldn't leave the horses. For one thing they were carrying all their stuff, and for another they were loyal and brave companions. Seagil and Angel had been part of the hunters' little troupe since they'd started up 4 years previous and leaving them behind was out of the question.

Her brow pinching in concentration, Rinoa scoured the treeline below them again, searching deep between the trees. At first there was nothing, just empty shadows and silence. But then in the gloom, something horrid stared out. It flashed in Rinoa's mind like a snap of lightning across a pitch black sky and her heart jumped instantly in her chest. What…?

"Um…"

"Um…?" Quistis echoed. She had given up trying to reach Seagil's bridle and was instead packing the remains of their snack back into one of his saddle bags. If the massive beast didn't fancy moving then she supposed she might as well finish tidying up while she waited for him to come back to his senses.

"I, uh," Rinoa trailed off. She was staring off into the trees and Angel was looking around even more nervously than before whickering softly, her mistress's discomfort catching on.

Quistis looked at Rinoa questioningly. Rinoa didn't bother to look at her, she was fixated on the treeline. "What is it?"

"I think…" Rinoa licked her lips, "I think we should go and check that out."

Quistis frowned and walked around the horses to look for whatever Rinoa was looking at. "I don't see anything."

"It's in the trees."

"What is it?"

"I don't know, I only saw it for a moment. It was in the trees."

A look at Rinoa's nervous expression, and the white-knuckle grip she had on Angel's reins, and it was apparent that neither she nor the horses would be going anywhere until Quistis went and found (and killed) whatever was giving them all the heebiejeebies.

Fishing her chain whip from around her waist Quistis picked a bottle of wolfs-bane extract and a vile of daylight dust from a saddlebag and popped them into bag hanging from her belt. "Wait," Rinoa stopped her as she started down the hill towards the trees, "I'll come too."

Quistis nodded and waited for Rinoa to get a crossbow out of a saddlebag and a handful of bolts (which went in a specially designed quiver hanging from her belt) and then they started down the hill together. Behind them Angel and Seagil huddled together to watch their mistresses go, nickering to them to stop and come back, that it wasn't safe down there and they shouldn't mess with whatever was hiding in the trees. They were ignored of course.

"Where is it?" Quistis whispered as they got closer. She was in front of Rinoa as usual, but if her friend could give her some direction that was always nice.

"Straight ahead, in the trees."

Slowly and carefully so as not to make any unnecessary noise, the two crept into the shadow of the trees. They were well practiced at creeping and took time to place their feet where they would not rustle or alert any potential prey to their coming. This was part of the reason Quistis always took the lead, she was best at creeping and Rinoa had a crossbow, so she didn't need to creep quite as far as Quistis did to be in rage to take a shot, only 12 -15ft to Quistis' 8.

They had gone rather a long way with no sign of anything at all, so Quistis turned to look over her shoulder at Rinoa and give her a silent 'how much further?' to which Rinoa replied with a jerk of her head to 'keep going'. Quistis had to admit she was beginning to think Rinoa hadn't actually seen anything at all and was in fact jumping at shadows when at last they came across something. That was… if 'something' could be called an eviscerated roe deer, messily dispatched and half eaten. Quistis stopped at the sight and waited, listening for any movement that might suggest the killer was nearby, but when no sounds greeted her, she slunk over to it to inspect it.

The whole of the abdomen had been opened up from arsehole to sternum and ribs stuck out of the wound at unnatural angles. The entrails were dragged out into the dirt and glistened in what little light managed to make its way through the canopy above. The fatal wound looked to have been inflicted with some force, but it didn't look like any wolf or bear kill Quistis had seen before. No hunter who hoped to sell his catch would ever dream of doing this sort of thing to it, so she couldn't see this being done by Man. But quite what would have done such a thing, she had no idea. The kill was evidently fresh by the gleam in the eyes and that there was no rotting smell, nor many flies. On lifting one of the unfortunate beast's legs it seemed rigor-mortise had yet to set in either.

Quistis was, if she was honest, a bit stumped, and a bit put out. Whatever had killed this had done it recently, but wasn't here anymore and had, by the looks of things, hardly spared the time to enjoy its meal. This was far enough into the trees that there would have been no way Rinoa could have seen this, so it couldn't have been what they were looking for. So whatever they were looking for must have either moved on, or not been here at all because if it had then they would have run into it before they ran into this mess and therefore all of Rinoa's worrying had been naught more than a lot of fuss about nothing. It was, however, as these thoughts were formulating inside her head, that the thing Rinoa had seen, and what they had been looking for, found them.


End file.
